


Hide and Go Seek (between the lines)

by Augustus



Category: Dragonlance - Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-10-08
Updated: 2000-10-08
Packaged: 2018-03-08 02:17:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3191561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augustus/pseuds/Augustus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tas and a noble child are snatched from a stable. The companions react.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hide and Go Seek (between the lines)

**Author's Note:**

> The original Hide and Go Seek was written by Nancy Varian Berberick and is included in "Love and War", book three in the Tales trilogy. Lines confined within // & italicised are from the original story, as detailed above. The rest is mine.
> 
> Dedicated: To Bec – whose answer to my whining about the lack of D/L slash was a comment along the lines of ‘go write some, then’.

_// Tas had vanished. Caramon would have no part of a search around Seven Wells for Tas. "Who knows where the little bandit’s got off to now?_ I’m _not spending the cool of the morning looking for him. He knows where we’re bound. Let him catch up." Raistlin removed himself from the discussion altogether. Sturm, who decided it might be profitable to look while the others argued, returned after a time with the news that Tas was not to be found. "Right," Flint snapped. "Because he probably took off in the middle of the night, for who knows what foolish reason." He lifted his pack with an easy swing and settled it on his back. "I’m not waiting around for him to remember where he’s supposed to be. Caramon’s right, he’ll catch us up on the road. And if he doesn’t – then he doesn’t." //_

It hadn’t been the first time that Tas had disappeared in the days leading up to Runne’s wedding. Flint had long since lost whatever patience he had possessed to begin with. There was a lot to think about with the imminent vows of his old friend’s granddaughter. The last thing that the old dwarf needed was to have to worry about the latest adventure that blasted kender had gotten himself into.

It wasn’t as though Flint even _liked_ Tas. Why, he could rant on for hours, to anyone willing to listen, about how much the kender irritated him. It was only for the sake of Tanis that he had let him into his home, and only for the sake of him – and of the other companions – that he continued to endure his presence.

It would be good to have a few hours of peace and quiet on the day’s journey. Admittedly, Tas would probably be back and prattling away madly again by the full heat of the sun, but Flint was not about to allow a rare good mood to be spoilt by such thoughts.

The companions had been prey to Tas’ incessant babble ever since they had left Solace, many weeks of travel – and of disruption of travel – ago now. Caramon was always happy to listen for a while before heading off into the forest at the sides of the road, in some hunt for bandits only his youthful enthusiasm could see. Sturm and Tanis listened politely, interjecting a word here and there whenever it was possible, while Raistlin was never so much as bothered, one of his cold looks sufficing where a thousand discouraging words may not. 

Flint was the only one of the companions really bothered by Tas’ prattle – so naturally it was he whom was most targeted by the kender, with Tas sticking close by his side for the majority of each day’s walking.

No, Flint wouldn’t miss the kender for the next few hours at all.

* * *

_// "Don’t worry," [Tas] whispered. "This is just like a game of Hide and go Seek, only I’m sure my friends will find us. Tanis is the best tracker there is. And Raistlin and Sturm and Caramon learned from him. The place I’m going to take us to is a place Flint showed me a couple of years ago. Once they get on our trail, Flint will know right off where I’m heading. Probably." Hide and Go Seek? Keli turned away in disgust. "This is not a game, kender. I told you, these two are going to kill me." As before, the kender grinned and shook his head. "Those two? Flint alone could handle three or four of that sort. Or five, or six, depending on the circumstances……" //_

Tas had absolutely no doubt that Flint would save him – and, of course, the boy. In Tas’ eyes, Flint could do anything. At times he could get a little irritable – seemingly for no reason at all (why, only the evening before, Tas had been the recipient of a major tongue lashing simply because he had been keeping Flint’s whittling knife safe in one of his pouches), but Tas was used to his occasional (and undeserved) outbursts of temper. Whenever an incident such as that occurred, which could be quite often, Tanis or Sturm would always step in to remove Tas from the scene.

The kender didn’t see the necessity of such an action. It wasn’t as though Flint would ever want Tas to leave him all alone to his thoughts and his carving. No, Tas had no doubt that Flint wanted – needed – him around.

Just as he had no doubt that Flint and the rest of his friends would come to his rescue.

Flint had probably noticed Tas missing only minutes after he and the boy had been snatched by Tigo and Staag. It wouldn’t have taken long after the realisation of the kender’s absence for the dwarf to have alerted the rest of the companions. And surely his friends would be tracking them at a rate easily greater than that of Tas, the boy, and their two captors.

No, it wouldn’t be long before their saviours would arrive. 

* * *

_// Tanis grinned again. "Runne is a beauty, isn’t she?" "Aye, she’s that. Her grandfather would have been proud this day." Memories darkened the old dwarf’s eyes again, clouds in a clear sky. As though to deny the sudden thread of sadness running through his day, Flint looked around, searched the crowd of family and friends now surging around the new bride and her husband. "That addle-pated kender never turned up." //_

Flint would have liked to be able to _feel_ as flippant about Tas’ non-arrival as he had sounded. The truth of the matter, however, was that he was feeling more than a little hurt by the whole thing. He had never said so in as many words, but Tas should have _known_ how important Runne’s wedding was to Flint. Why, the old dwarf had rarely felt as proud as when he had given the young beauty’s hand to her new husband. It would have been good to have the kender about the place somewhere when he had done so. After all, it would have been beneficial for Tas to see how the decent people went about their lives, with no need for light-fingered borrowings, or pouches full of ‘treasures’. Not that there was any hope of him deciding to turn over a miraculous new leaf. Kender were kender. The rest of Krynn just had to learn to live with that reality.

Flint was surprised at how odd the gathering seemed without the usual cries of indignation, as various party members discovered the disappearance of items all too attractive to a kender’s eye. He would have thought himself grateful for a few rare moments of peace and quiet, without the endless hum of Tas’ latest Uncle Trapspringer story. Instead, however, Flint felt as though some small insect was biting away uneasily at his mind.

All joking aside, it really wasn’t like Tas to miss a gathering such as this. There was too much to see, too many new and interesting people to talk to and to deftly deprive of their belongings. Sure, the kender had wandered off many times before on their journey, but never with the promise of an immediate adventure, bigger even than could be stumbled upon during a night time wandering. In the past, it had only ever been another day’s hard trek under the hot summer sun that was sacrificed to Tas’ enthusiasm. A wedding was different.

And, admit it or not, Flint was worried. 

* * *

_// Tas choked, gasped for air, and coughed. Keli shrugged himself closer to the kender and nudged him with his shoulder. "You all right?" Tas muttered something into the dirt. "What?" "I want my dagger, my hoopak, a rock, anything!" Keli braced his own shoulder against the kender’s, offering companionship, commiseration, comfort. "Maybe," he whispered, more for Tas’ sake than because he believed, "maybe your friends will find us soon." //_

It wasn’t really the hunger that Tas minded. It wasn’t even the loss of his pouches and their contents. The thing that was bothering him most of all was the thought that his friends would be worrying about him – especially Flint. Tas knew that Flint would be fretting most of all. He would never _admit_ to such feelings, but Tas knew the old dwarf better than _any_ of the companions. He had long since learned to ignore Flint’s words, and his tone of voice. Tas knew that it was what went on in his head that counted, and what showed in his eyes. Right now, the kender was pretty sure that those eyes would be showing a lot more concern than ever would be vocalised.

Tas decided to think about his friends, finding them a much more favourable topic than his own current predicament. Whenever the kender found himself in an adventure that had turned out to be less pleasant than originally expected, he found it easy to keep up his spirits, simply by remembering _other_ adventures he had experienced with the companions. They were all so much fun to be around, for such different reasons. Sturm was so brave and serious, and Caramon was so big and jolly. Raistlin could be a little mean at times, but was so clever, as was Tanis. And Flint… well, Flint was Flint.

Tas smiled a little at the mere thought of his friend, but the smile was quickly lost again at the memory of his current situation.

It wasn’t himself that Tas was worried about. He had no doubt that things would turn out okay – both for himself and for the boy – but Flint wasn’t such an optimist. He would fear the worst.

And _that_ was what was making _Tas_ worried.

* * *

_// A blade-broken dagger, a blue earthenware ink pot, a little carved tinderbox, a copper belt buckle that Caramon had lost somehow and which Tas would swear he’d always meant to return, a soft cloth the colour of dawn’s rose, a bundle of the stiff green feathers Tanis liked best for fletching his arrows… all of these kender-treasures and more had been discarded as so much junk. Flint’s anger might seem, from his tight-lipped muttering, to be directed against a packrat of a kender. Tanis knew the old dwarf better than that. "We’ll find him, Flint." //_

Tanis had known Flint much longer than the younger members of their party, and was therefore a lot more adept at reading the old dwarf’s moods. He was also more than accustomed to translating impatient comments into the truth underlying them. 

The half-elf was unanimously believed to be the most insightful of the companions – possibly as a result, at least partially, of his elvine blood – and his talents in the area were especially obvious when it came to Flint and Tas. The kender was always completely up front about his admiration for Flint, but the latter was a lot more reserved – to say the least. Tanis never took any notice of the dwarf’s ranting where Tas was concerned. He knew the true emotions that lay beneath the harsh words.

It was Flint who was feeling the kender’s loss the most of any of the friends, just as it had been he who had been the first to come to the conclusion that something was wrong. At first, the others had been dubious – after all, Tas had always turned up again in the past. Flint, however, had been adamant that something was wrong.

The other companions had not been difficult to persuade. Flint almost seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to finding out about the kender’s latest scrapes. The friends had long ago learnt to trust the dwarf’s instincts on all Tas related matters. Beneath Flint’s gruff exterior was someone who really did care about "that blasted kender".

As for exactly how _much_ he cared about Tas… well, that was knowledge that not even _Tanis_ was party to…

* * *

_// Silent as a shadow moving in the breeze, Raistlin came up behind them. "If someone took the map case, and there is nothing to show that the kender was killed here, it would not be amiss to consider that the case, Tas, and whoever waylaid him are still together. The trail is rocky up ahead, Tanis." "Tracks?" "None. But there is something else." Raistlin nodded toward a small group of boulders. "Camp signs. Perhaps you should see them." Tanis moved as though to signal Flint to join them, but the young mage shook his head. Fear, like a dark thread of night, crawled through Tanis’s belly. //_

Raistlin led Tanis over to the area that had obviously been used as a campsite only the night before. It wasn’t as though he was too worried about the kender’s disappearance himself. Raistlin wasn’t really one to become attached to those he was surrounded by – at least not beyond their usefulness to him. However, he was far from enthusiastic about spending the next week searching the forest for a misplaced kender. The sooner that Tas was found – whether dead or alive – the sooner it would be that Raistlin could begin the homeward journey, anxious as he was to inspect his small garden of useful herbs for damage from the summer heat.

As he showed the half-elf his discovery, Raistlin carefully watched the play of emotions on Tanis’ face. On a boulder not far from the remains of the campsite, was a small rough version of Flint’s plate mark – an anvil bisected by the dwarven rune of the letter F. The uneasiness in Tanis’ eyes, however, stemmed not from the symbol itself but, rather, from the ink that had been used to form it. Blood. Kender blood.

It was this that had led Raistlin to the conclusion that it would be better if Flint was not to see the latest sign of Tas’ former presence. The young mage was no novice at reading between the lines. It was a skill that formed a vital part of his battle armour. Often there was no need for wasting energy on magic, when a well-placed word could easily suffice.

Such an ability was equally as advantageous when one was surrounded by people such as Flint and Kitiara. Neither could be taken at face value; the words of both had to be interpreted before they could be filed away inside Raistlin’s mind for possible future use. If Tanis was still unsure about the nature of Flint’s feelings for Tas, that was not a problem shared by his younger companion. Raistlin had decided long ago that the words of irritation covered up a reality far more worrying to the old dwarf than any escapade of the kender could ever hope to be. It was a reality that he knew all to well himself – and one that Tanis could never possibly understand.

_After all_ , Raistlin thought, as he looked almost sadly at the half-elf, who was now touching a finger to the mark to assess its recentness. _As wise as he is, there are some things that Tanis just can’t see, no matter how near they may be._

* * *

_// Both turned at the sound of an approach. Flint stood at Tanis’s elbow. "Wretched kender!" The old dwarf clenched his fist. "Vanishing out from under our noses and getting himself into Reorx only knows what kind of trouble!" He stared for a long time at the device, which had marked his best and most beautiful work, sketched now in dark blood on the stone. It was as though he had never seen the mark before and sought now to memorise it. //_

Flint’s mind was protesting greatly at the request for it to process this latest visual input. It was a connection of the familiar and the terrible – and one with a meaning that Flint wasn’t sure that he wanted to comprehend.

Had the kender already been bleeding from some horrible – perhaps even fatal – wound when he had made the mark? Or had it been something slightly less sinister, like a mere need for a writing medium?

And why _that_ particular symbol? 

Flint would have liked to think that his plate mark had been used as a sign of Tas’ confidence in the old dwarf’s ability to save him from whoever – or whatever – it was that had captured him. The alternative wasn’t something that he wished to contemplate. A symbolic goodbye?

Flint didn’t even want to think about it.

Although it wasn’t his way, Flint suddenly began to wish that he had told the kender – even once – that he didn’t consider him to be as much of a nuisance as he might have suggested through his words. What if Tas was to die without knowing the true nature of the old dwarf’s feelings for him?

What if he was _already_ dead?

The thought sent a cold sliver of grief throughout Flint’s body. Surely he would have somehow _known_ if that were the case. He had heard stories of people for whom that had been the reality. On the death of a loved one, they had felt the departure of some small part of their soul, and thus known the dreadful truth. Possibly there could be some hope sought in such stories. After all, Flint loved Tas as he loved all of the companions – except, perhaps, for that cold-hearted mage. No _more_ than the others, of course. 

Although, he realised, the dwarf had never felt this worried before in the whole of his long life.

* * *

_// Keli’s heart sank and with it any hope he might have nourished for rescue. "They’re not coming," he said bleakly. "Oh, yes, they are. It – just might take them a little longer to get here. But that’s all right. Things will work out if you stick with me." Tas winked, something that Keli was beginning to realise as a sign that more trouble was on the way. "All the way." "All the way?" "All the way to the top." "The top of the_ falls _?" Keli’s mouth went suddenly drier than it had been all day. "I don’t – I’m not sure –" "Don’t worry!" Tas’ eyes were bright with expectation. "Really, Keli, you worry more than anyone I’ve ever met. Except Flint. Now, there’s a worrier." //_

Tas wished that his mind could manage to be as light as the tone of his own voice. Flint’s tendency to worry had been what had been spoiling the adventure for the kender from the very beginning. It was impossible to get excited about the absolute drama of actually being kidnapped when he couldn’t stop thinking about how upset his friend must be by now.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Tas was beginning to miss his friends. It was all very well to be in the middle of what was possibly the greatest adventure of his life, but it just wasn’t as much fun without the others around to add their own varieties of interest. Flint, he missed most of all. Even now, he could imagine the old dwarf muttering about the "absolute messes that scatterbrained kender always manages to drag us into". Imagining just wasn’t the same, though. There was a kind of security that came with Flint’s irritable mutterings. When the dwarf was around, Tas always felt safe, no matter _how_ dangerous the adventure.

It wasn’t that Tas was beginning to doubt the ability of Flint – and the rest of his friends – to find him. It was more a matter of wishing that they would hurry up and do so. Tigo and Staag were no substitute for more pleasant company, and neither was Keli. The boy was too much of a worrier for a child of twelve. It was different with Flint. It made Tas feel strangely warm inside to know that the old dwarf worried about his own well being – as misguided as that worry was. Tas was _never_ scared. There was no situation that he might find himself in that couldn’t be escaped with a bit of trickery and a little help from a few good friends.

Hiding a small, lonely sigh from Keli, Tas began to explain his plan to the boy. After all, the sooner that they managed to escape from their captors, the sooner that Tas would be able to see Flint again.

It was a prospect that the kender was looking forward to more than he would have previously believed possible.

* * *

_// Far out across the lake, small as abandoned nestling, two swimmers surfaced at the roil’s edge. There was something about the dive and play of one to tell [Tanis] right off that he was Tas. The other, clutching at air and shimmer, looked like a boy. Behind the two, closing fast even as Tanis watched, were two other swimmers. One, huge-armed and grey-skinned, was clearly a goblin. The other, lean and one-handed, coursed ahead, angling as though he meant to cut in behind the boy. Flint’s groan could have risen straight from the depths of Tanis’s own fear. Moving quickly, the half-elf tossed aside his bow and quiver and pulled off his boots. Raistlin’s light hand caught his wrist. "Wait! Tanis, let my brother go, and Sturm. You’re the bowman and the longest-sighted of us all. Defend them while they swim." Though reluctantly, Tanis agreed. //_

It was a suggestion that couldn’t be questioned by any of his companions, but one that was double-edged for Raistlin. True, it was only sensible that Tanis remain on the bank with his skill with the bow, especially when both Caramon and Sturm were faster swimmers, and stronger at hand-to-hand fighting, if it came to that. Raistlin had his own reasons for the suggestion, however. If there was any danger at all associated with entering the water in pursuit of Tas’ captors, then he didn’t want Tanis to be at all implicated. There was a much lesser threat in shooting arrows from a distance, and that was exactly how Raistlin wanted it to be.

To the side of his vision, the young mage was vaguely aware of the expression of cold fear that decorated Flint’s face, only proving his own theories regarding the nature of the old dwarf’s feelings for Tas. He was not particularly interested in Flint’s internal battle, however, preferring to watch the intense concentration on Tanis’ own face as he notched arrow to bow and frowned out at the glistening water. 

A splash at the water’s edge alerted Raistlin to the fact that his twin and Sturm had begun their pursuit of the four small figures at the other side of the lake. He was not worried about the fate of his brother. Caramon had faced foes far greater than the goblin and the strange other pursuer and had never so much as been injured. Sturm was equally capable of doing whatever was needed, although Raistlin doubted that he would be particularly bothered if he should turn out to be wrong on that matter. 

Instead of turning to watch the progress of the two young men, Raistlin kept his full attention on the graceful movements of the tall redhead beside him.

* * *

_// Sturm shouted once, then again. He’d lost the hook-handed man or found Tas and the boy – Tanis couldn’t be sure which and did not spend a moment’s concentration wondering. His hands knew nothing but his bow, his eyes only his arrow’s target. That target, the grey-skinned, maddened goblin, had dragged Caramon beneath the lake’s surface and held him there now. His breath held tightly, legs braced wide, Tanis waited the interminable space of five heartbeats for Caramon to surface again, afraid to loose his arrow for fear that Caramon would come up between it and the goblin. Dimly he was aware of Raistlin’s intake of breath, of Flint’s curse and then his whispered plea. //_

If Tanis had previously held any doubts about the true nature of Flint’s feelings for the kender, he had dismissed them completely within the last couple of hours. It was obvious that the sudden possibility of life without Tas’ constant adventures and scrapes had dived straight into the dwarf’s core. Now he stood, shell shocked, on the lake’s bank, staring out – almost unseeing – at the water.

Even the cold Raistlin had seemed surprisingly affected by the outcome of events. Until his twin had disappeared beneath the lake’s surface, the young mage’s eyes had remained firmly on Tanis, as if mentally adding his own meagre strength to the power in the arms holding the bow and readied arrow. It was an interest that seemed foreign to Tanis’ mind. He would have thought the young man incapable of any real concern about the kender’s well being.

_Perhaps I have misjudged him_ , he thought, although keeping his eyes firmly on his target. _He is certainly worried enough now about his brother’s predicament._

As he loosed the arrow, Tanis allowed himself a quick glance at the too-slender man standing close at his side. Raistlin’s face was unreadable, as usual, but something in his stance betrayed his anxiety at Caramon’s failure to resurface, as did the whispered "please" that barely reached the half-elf’s ears.

At times it seemed as though Raistlin was incapable of real emotion. For this short moment in time, however, Tanis felt almost as though the young mage was admitting to being human.

It was a flattering imperfection.

* * *

_// They were alone in the lake, Staag’s body gone into the rage of the falls, Tigo vanished. There was no sign of Tas and the boy. Though they dove and searched for longer than those on the shore knew anyone could survive beneath the water, they did not find Tas or his small companion. Caramon raised his fists to the thundering falls. The dying sun coloured his brawny arms red and gold. His howl of rage echoed for a long time between the shores, so loud and grieved that Tanis did not hear the small clatter of his own bow when it fell from his hands to the rocky shore. Numb, Tanis watched as Caramon and Sturm made their way back to land. He joined Raistlin and Flint to help them, awkward and earth-bound again, onto the shore, For a long time he felt vacant, emptied. The feeling well matched what he saw in Caramon’s eyes, in Sturm’s, in Flint’s stunned disbelief. //_

_Too late._

The words echoed through Flint’s thoughts as a cold iciness settled beneath his ribs. Tas had been counting on them, and yet they had been too late. 

A cry of despair rose within his throat, but yet he seemed to have no air to give it life. A steely finger of grief traced a bitter path through his blood as his eyes remained, unfocussed, on the lake that had claimed the kender for its liquid depths.

Was this the feeling that the stories spoke of? Was this the dull pain of knowledge? Flint did not know, and did not care. All he could think of was his own failure to save Tas. If only he had taken the kender’s absence seriously from the very beginning. A wedding was not so important when it was to be purchased with a life. Especially when it was the life of one who meant so much to the old dwarf.

It was only through losing Tas that Flint found himself finally able to admit exactly what the kender meant to him.

* * *

_// "He’s lost his mind." The words hardly matched the breathless awe, the chilled amazement, of Flint’s tone. "By Reorx’s forge, if that kender ever had a mind to lose, he’s lost it now. Tanis! Look!" Tanis raised his head from his drawn-up knees, looked to where Flint pointed. Impossible, the half-elf thought dully, he’s dead, drowned. "Impossible" was not a word one could apply to a kender’s resourcefulness with any hope of accuracy. Tas – topknot flying in the wind from the falls, arms spread for balance – negotiated a natural bridge no wider than the span of two hands across the cascade’s spot high above the lake. Even as Tanis watched, the kender turned his head as though speaking to the one who followed him on hands and knees. //_

Flint had never thought it possible to touch two more extreme emotions in a matter of seconds. One moment he had been contemplating life without the one person who gave it meaning, the next he had been staring up at what had, originally, seemed to be a ghost of that person. As it became clear that this was no apparition, he had, at first, been unable to speak, alerting his friends solely by the sudden intake of breath that had accompanied the joyous realisation. And, for that moment, it didn’t matter if he was ever able to speak again. All that mattered was that Tas was alive, that he hadn’t been too late to save the kender after all.

The activity of rescuing the kender and his small companion from their precarious perch barely registered in Flint’s mind. His entire body seemed to be afloat with warm happiness, his head golden with sparkling relief. It was enough for him to watch the younger members of the party arranging the final parts of the rescue, enough to let Raistlin’s magic provide the ultimate rope to safety. 

It was as though something within Flint – unknown before the activities of the last few hours – was promising that everything would be okay now. He had already lost Tas once today; he would not have to do so again.

Smiling, he turned to watch the kender’s excitement clear on his face as he sailed down the magical silver and gold rope that Raistlin had woven seemingly from the air itself.

No, everything would be fine now. Flint didn’t intend to ever lose the kender again. And, as for the matter of the _nature_ of his feelings for Tas, all could be dealt with in time. It had been a realisation that had taken many long months to take form inside Flint’s mind, reaching its full height only with the tearing claws of his short-lived grief. A few more days, or weeks, would make no difference.

If it was meant to be it would happen, whether in this life or somewhere in the next.

**{fin}  
08-10-2000**


End file.
